


Cleopatra

by CassieBaby01



Category: Cleopatra - The Lumineers (Song)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieBaby01/pseuds/CassieBaby01
Summary: This is literally one of the fake scenarios I made up to fall asleep. I just wrote it down today and thought about sharing it to an anonymous audience. I don't expect anyone to care / to read it. Although, I don't mention names, nor particular psychical traits. So you can fill it in to personal experience/preference.That way, you can use it to fall asleep!Don't expect too much of it, please.





	Cleopatra

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally one of the fake scenarios I made up to fall asleep. I just wrote it down today and thought about sharing it to an anonymous audience. I don't expect anyone to care / to read it. Although, I don't mention names, nor particular psychical traits. So you can fill it in to personal experience/preference.  
> That way, you can use it to fall asleep!  
> Don't expect too much of it, please.

He stopped abruptly. She didn't even realize it , too absorbed in her own discourse. After a few steps, she noticed his absence and turned around. With a dumbfounded expression he looked at her, frozen. "What?" she asked half laughing, trying to lighten the conversation. "I don't understand."She turned around completely, so that they were facing each other. "What don't you understand?" "How it's possible that you're not involved with any guy." He said it in such a serious tone that she was unsure if it was a sarcastic remark. "Why?" She raised one eyebrow, trying to respond to this sarcasm. "I mean it. How?" So it wasn't sarcasm. "I just explained that. Aren't you listening? Where was he going with this?" "No, you haven't explained anything. You presented excuses." He stepped forward, but remained facing her. The vaporous clouds of their breath came together and became one. "What are my excuses then?" A sincere question, she needed an explanation. "That you are not beautiful, not interesting, that there is no one who really likes you." So he was listening. More so, he had managed to see through her difficult, twisting phrasing. His nose and cheeks glowed red, in his hair some persistent snowflakes stuck, the ones that had already melted had wet the rest. He saw her eyes explore his face. In doing so, he noted that she avoided his eyes, as if afraid of what she would see in them.  
"Do you find me beautiful?" She regretted the question even before all the words had passed her lips. He laughed head shaking, shrugged his shoulders and walked on. Now she was the one standing frozen dumbfounded. The streetlight above her head flickered. The warm, yellow light shone shockingly on the fresh snow. She walked a little faster to catch up with him, catching the smoke from his just-lit cigarette in the process. "You know what your problem is?" She didn't answer, wanting to give him a chance to explain his reasoning uninterrupted. "You're scared." Never mind. "I'm scared?" It sounded more defensive than she would have liked. He paid no attention, blew out a cloud of smoke above their heads. "You're scared that you'll genuinely feel something for someone, beyond just the urge for validation. And you're scared that person will break your heart before you can do that to them." He took a puff, as if he just hadn't unraveled her entire psyché. She didn't know whether she wanted to hit him or embrace him. Is there any way to do both at the same time?  
The road turned into a paved path, where the snow had not been cleared away. Both of them started to tread more carefully. "Why do you think that?" Of all the things she wanted to say, this question seemed the most logical, the most deserving of an answer. "I don't think that. I KNOW that." Those sentences were deeply unsettling. Did she want to hear the end of this? "How do you know that?" "Because I've experienced it." She hoped he was talking about himself, but feared he wasn't. His cigarette had been smoked up by now. The cigarette butt landed smoldering in a snow-covered garbage can. It remained silent for a long time. So long that the sound of the highway nearby began to be noticed. He sniffed, in a hopeless attempt to break that silence. "What do you mean by that?" The sentence fell like a block from her shoulders; she could almost hear it plopping in the snow. "I mean that - we were so close." He said it like a disappointed father giving a required lecture to a naughty child. "We were so close to something beautiful that might still exist today. But you didn't let it. You pushed me away from you. I could never figure you out. You wouldn't let me in. So many times I showed, I tried. All I wanted was to be yours. I know you felt the same way I did. Why didn't you do it? Was I not enough? Wasn't it obvious? Wasn't it ...?" It was the first time this evening that he had said so much. And the more he spoke, the more he stumbled over his words. His voice sounded more pleading now, more uncertain.  
She stopped, almost slipping at the abrupt movement. To continue walking would make the confession an average subject. And it was anything but. He did keep walking, he wanted to make this an average subject. His shoes crunched in the snow, dark prints on a white background. It didn't look like he was going to stop, so she begged him to . He finally stood still, but didn't turn around. For the second time since she had known him, he seemed small, vulnerable. His shoulders slumped slightly, his head pointed at his wet shoes. She wanted to tell him so much, but couldn't get a sound out of her throat. Only his name she said half whispering . She took a few steps forward, gently touching the back of his upper arm. He turned around.  
Again that cloud. Those glowing cheeks, that wet hair. Those eyes. Watery and glassy eyes. She saw his pain, his sadness, his longing. Her hands automatically went to his face. Her frozen fingers dried his tears. She was still looking straight into his eyes, wanting to see what was hidden in them. Her hands continued to rest on his cold cheeks, her fingertips caught in his hair.His hands slowly made their way along her waist, stopping in the curve of her back. He pulled her closer to him, their bodies now a few inches apart. But it wasn't enough. He wanted her closer, her hands around his neck, her fingers in his hair. She responded to this desire, bringing her face to his.  
The cloud of vapor grew smaller and smaller and disappeared at the uniting of their lips. Her fingers intertwined with his locks of hair. She felt his warm tongue slip through his cold lips. He inhaled sharply and pressed her body more firmly against his. She had never been so close to him. Had never taken in his scent so strongly. An intoxicating mixture of cigarettes, cologne and sweat.  
It had started to snow again. For a moment, none of them realized. Their world consisted only of each other. Of the entity that their entwined bodies had created. She noticed when a cluster of flakes landed on her eyelashes. She pulled her lips from his with difficulty. He kept his hands on her waist. She looked up, smiled. 'Look' she whispered in a hoarse voice. He put his head in his neck and admired the snowy sky. A few snowflakes wet his cheeks again. When he looked back at her, their eyes met once more. Now hers were watery, glassy. "I'm not scared."


End file.
